


My Saving Grace

by RaphaelSantiago (softsocky)



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: I will clarify - no blood!, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Simon is sad and this makes raphael sad too, lots of books and reading, ok read it, this is emo level 10, wait there is blood but like not from self harming, warnings for BRIEF self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsocky/pseuds/RaphaelSantiago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon doesn’t think he’s beautiful and Raphael likes to read fairy tales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Saving Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Halo, by Beyonce.

SIMON WAS SURROUNDED BY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE – Clary and Jace and _Alec_ and Magnus, other vampires with their porcelain skin and invisible pores, and _vampires_ like _Raphael_ bloody _Santiago_ , who was the most beautiful of them all. Sometimes Simon felt like it would be the second death of him, his beauty so paralysing that he could sometimes find himself choking and shivering and wishing for a restart. Wishing he could start his life again and never meet Clary so he would never be dragged into this world, so he would never be a vampire, _so he would never know the beauty that is Raphael Santiago._

But then Simon mentally slaps himself whenever he thinks in such ways – not only did he love Clary and his life, and all the hazards that it has thrown upon him (he thought High School was bad, but vampirism and shadowhunting is honestly so much worse), but he also loved said vampire clan leader, Raphael.

 The problem was, though, Simon’s skin didn’t seem to become smooth and perfect as everyone else’s had, his arms didn’t tighten up, and his abdomen didn’t miraculously get abs like everyone else around him did.

 And it was because of this that Raphael Santiago would never love him back.

 

THIS WHOLE LOVE THING started when Simon walked in on Raphael pouring blood into a metal cup in the kitchen that first time. Their eyes met, Raphael’s expressionlessly raking up his body, while Simon’s own watched Raphael judge his attire. He was wearing sleepwear – of course he was, he had just woken up – and that consisted of an Avengers shirt and black boxers, with one sock, the other lost somewhere amongst his bed sheets. Raphael met his eyes again, eyes still bleak and empty, but deep and beautiful still nonetheless. Raphael wordlessly handed Simon the cup of blood, before retreating back to his office.

 That moment there, Simon became to realise, was Raphael fulfilling his promise he had made to Clary – _I’ll look after Simon._ And this cup of blood thing, gruesomely reminding him of church ceremony, became a morning – _technically, evening_ – routine. Raphael would pour him a cup of blood, give it to him without a world, judge his pyjamas, and then leave.

 

AND SO IT BEGAN – Simon’s ridiculously accurate observation of Raphael’s beauty and overall attractiveness, from the way he styled his hair to the way he tied the laces on his hunting boots. Simon paid attention to the littlest of details, which he knew was both a part of him as well as it was the increase in his human senses, and he wished that for once in his life he would willingly be clueless. Simon didn’t used to be observant – only now, now that he’s known Raphael, and been in his presence, has he truly become aware of the things that make up a person, _vampire_. _And so it began_ , his really inconvenient and disrespectful fascination with Raphael – or, what Clary would have called his _massive crush on that vampire guy with the good hair and ever better eyebrows._

 

 SIMON TRIED TO ACT COOL about it, act _chill_ , but Raphael made it really hard for him not to notice his unattractiveness. Being around someone as perfect and angular as Raphael made it damn near impossible for anyone to feel confident in themselves, but for him, it felt even worse. Even as a human he had these insecurities, and where being immortal should have washed these ways, all vampirism had done for him was make him have to live with it for a whole lot longer.

 Simon wished he could talk to Clary about it, but she was busy with Jace and the other shadowhunters, and he couldn’t even speak to Isabelle or Alec – not that they would – because they themselves were beautiful on a new scale, and wouldn’t understand his worries. Simon hadn’t truly befriended any other vampires at the hotel, so he had none of those to speak to, and speaking to Luke was just humiliating, despite him being like a father to him. The only person Simon ever really spoke to anymore was the one and only Raphael himself. And no, that just would not happen.

 

 WEEKS PAST AND EVENTUALLY DRIFTED INTO MONTHS – things changed, relationships formed and dissipated in the way clouds form from rivers and puddles, and soon becomes rain. Clary and Jace were siblings, Valentine was gone, and Alec was with Magnus. Isabelle was off with another Downworlder, and everyone had seemed to have forgotten about his predicament. Simon had all the time in the world, but no one had time for him anymore.

 The hotel had been quiet, too – not much had happened, no new wars from what Simon was aware of. The only good thing Simon had come across at the Hotel was the library, which he had later discovered was Raphael’s personal one.

 

 ONE DAY, when Simon was in a state unprecedented boredom, he gave himself a tour of a hotel he didn’t know his way around – eventually, because he was Simon Lewis, he was lost, and came across said library. It wasn’t huge like the Institutes was, but rather the type of personal library a lawyer would keep in the room beside his office. He ran his fingers across the spines of the ancient classics, the moonlight hitting the stained glass window in an appealing way, sending red and blue patterns across the wooden floorboards.

 Sitting in the chair across from the shelving, Simon picked up the book left on the table to its side. Opening it where the bookmark was placed, Simon was met with words in Spanish, a language he was yet to grasp from Raphael. Curiously, he got back up to the shelving, pulling books out at random, discovering that they, too, were in Spanish. Simon smiled to himself at the realisation that these were Raphael’s personal books, in his mother tongue, in the words he knew best.

 Simon jumped, nearly dropping the book in his hands when he heard a cough coming from the doorway. Raphael leaned against the doorframe, small smile on his lips, his own curiosity in his eyes to match Simon’s. Simon noted positively that he didn’t look mad, which he took as a small victory. But then his eyes fell to Raphael’s body, dressed in hugging trousers and a leather jacket with red detailing. He looked fantastic, as usual, and Simon looked at his own apparel choices – ragged jeans and a worn t-shirt. Simon wanted nothing more to be beautiful, but then again, he never took the time to be in the way Raphael does. Simon didn’t really see the point when people like him existed.

 “What are you looking for?” Simon nearly groaned; Raphael’s voice was so _hot_ , as beautiful and deep and mesmerising as he was himself. He knew his thoughts were always cheesy, and if Raphael could hear them, he would die all over again.

 Simon was stuttering, “just, uh, y’know…something in English.” He blushed, knowing how petty that sounded. But Raphael didn’t laugh or tease him; in fact, his expression didn’t change as he pushed himself off the wall and over to the book shelves.

 “You’ve probably noticed these are all in Spanish,” he stood directly in front of him now, eyes zoned in on his face. He couldn’t find his voice with Raphael’s face this close to his, so he just nodded. He had to force his eyes away from Raphael’s lips. “But,” he started, arm reaching up around Simon. Simon froze, stopped his unnecessary breathing, as Raphael’s skin brushed against his own. Vampires were supposed to be _dead,_ therefore _cold_ , but his skin left a burning sensation on his skin surface. He retained eye contact the entire time as he drew his arm back, holding a thin yet well-loved book. “This is the only English book I have.”

 Simon glanced down at the book in Raphael’s hands, smiling to himself. Meeting his eyes again, he took the book, “Thank you Raphael,” he said thoughtfully. Raphael smiled slightly, before turning to leave the room. When he was gone, Simon sat back at Raphael’s chair, opening the front cover of _Beauty and the Beast._

 RAPHAEL KNOCKED ON HIS BEDROOM DOOR, and when Simon replied weakly, he entered. Again Simon noted his appearance, but disregarded that as he was in a bad enough mood already.

 Raphael held a small stack of books in his hand, the covers new and hardback. Cocking his head to the side, he looked at Raphael curiously. Raphael spoke softly, but his voice still demanded attention, as always, “a few more English books for you.”

 Simon smile gratefully, standing to take them from his sire. “Thanks.”

 Raphael turned to leave, but stopped at the door. “Simon?”

 He looked away from the stack of fairy tale novellas in his hands towards Raphael, “yeah?”

 Raphael didn’t smile, but didn’t sound frustrated, “you have hot sauce on your collar.” The door shut behind him with a bit more force than necessary, and Simon wanted to cry. _Its only hot sauce_. But that’s the thing – it wasn’t just hot sauce. It was the fact that it was hot sauce that Raphael noticed. Not the way that Simon had actually done his hair today, or that he had put on his best jeans instead of his rattiest ones, and that he was actually wearing matching socks. No. He had seen the bad thing about Simon, as if Simon hadn’t noticed it already.

 

 A WEEK LATER, while still wallowing in self-pity, Raphael came into the library to return books to his shelves. He didn’t regard Simon’s presence – in fact, Raphael knew that it was one of two places he would ever find Simon, aside from his bedroom – but when he finished putting the books away, he noticed he was rereading his copy of _Beauty and the Beast_.

 Raphael smirked at him, “Simon, Magnus is having a party tonight.” Simon jolted, as though just remembering his presence.

 Simon glanced at this page number then sat the book on the table. “Um…okay. Have fun, I guess.” He didn’t meet Raphael’s eyes, too ashamed, too embarrassed.

 He knew Raphael was staring at him with that goddamn expression he wears when he doesn’t understand what Simon is saying, but like he wants to. “Do you want to go with me?”

 Simon’s head snaps up, eyes filled with grief. “Ah, thanks Raphael…but I might sit this one out.” Simon turned his eyes to his lap, not wanting to see his sire’s expression. Raphael stood there for a moment, but didn’t say a word when he left the room. Simon’s eyes welled up, and he allowed himself to cry about it just this once.

 

 IT SOON BECAME A THING – Raphael would invite him to a party, an event, an inter-clan meeting, and, as per usual, Simon would turn him down, saying he was too tired, too hungry, or just not feeling it. And then, when Raphael went to leave, he would double check with him, and Simon would die a little more inside because _bloody hell_ he looks fantastic in leather pants. Simon would turn him down, again, and when Raphael would leave with a pretty vampire girl in a flouncy skirt showing off her endless legs and beautiful proportions, Simon would let himself cry, and when Sunrise came and Raphael came home, Simon would still be crying himself to sleep.

 He didn’t realise that sometimes Raphael could hear the sobs through the bedroom wall.

 

 WHEN VALENTINES DAY CAME, he was shocked to see that the vampires actually celebrated it. That night, the hotel was basically empty, aside from Simon himself. Raphael had gone out – he left alone, but Simon was certain he wasn’t going to be that way for long – and Simon spent his night in the library. Wrapping a blanket around himself on the chair, Simon picked up the closest book on the stack, which happened to be _Beauty and the Beast_ again. He made no move to change the selection, but just began reading from the beginning, reciting it word for word as he went.

 When he woke up two hours later, book lying open on his lap, he _saw_ it. It wasn’t very big, and had he not glanced in that direction, perhaps he would never have seen it. It was a vintage hand mirror, with a jade green backing, and silver diamantes framing the oval mirror. Attached to it was a post it note, with a script of unfamiliar handwriting attached to it:

  _Do you even see yourself?_

 Simon took the mirror and blanket back to his room, noticing that the hotel was getting slightly busier as the sun was nearly rising for another day. Simon slammed his door shut, threw the blanket to the floor, and the mirror at the wall. Surprisingly it didn’t shatter, and Simon did see himself – he saw himself every day, and he saw the way he grew more and more unattractive each day, and how everyone around him held themselves with a confidence and a certainty he had never been one to have or hold.

  _Do you even see yourself?_ Whoever had left the mirror had asked him. Simon wanted to scream, but instead he whispered to himself over and over again.

 “I see myself, I see myself, I see myself.”

 _Ugly._ _Unworthy._

 

 EVERYTHING TRULY HIT THE FAN the day Raphael walked in on Simon without knocking first.

 Simon was sitting at his desk, holding the hand mirror, in only his boxer briefs. His fangs were out, as were his claws, and he was scratching at his own skin, red welts forming before rapidly disappearing. Raphael’s voice caught in his throat, choking him, consuming him.

 Simon met his gaze in his reflection, eyes watering, but not crying – it was as if he had cried too much already, and he hadn’t the energy anymore. Raphael said nothing to Simon as he made his way too him, grabbed his from the chair, ignoring Simon’s loud, angry protesting as he carried him down the hall.

 Vampires from the clan saw the commotion, but from the look on Raphael’s face, knew not to question or intrude. Raphael slammed his bedroom door, lightly placing him back on his feet by the end of his bed. Raphael said nothing, and Simon noted the way his eyes were so glassy he could see his own reflection in them – red eyes, welting skin, _hideous_.

 He wailed when Raphael hugged his body to his chest, despite their height difference, Simon hunched down into his sire’s grasp. Raphael’s cheek leant against the top of his head, and Simon wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.

 So he did.

 

 WHEN RAPHAEL KISSED HIM, Simon felt like his whole existence had been torn to shreds, and all that remained was the spirit within that he thought he had lost months before. His hands traced down his bare chest, over his nipples and stomach, around to his back, over his backside. He whimpered against Raphael’s lips, before pulling away. Raphael’s eyes met his, and they were full of the grief Simon had seen in his own earlier that night.

 Raphael gripped his wrist from where it was pulling away from his face. Simon placed the palm back on Raphael’s cheek. “Simon…why did you do this…why have you done this to yourself?” His voice was strained and husky, and even considering the circumstances, Simon shivered.

 Simon shrugged against his sire, leaning up to kiss him again. Raphael let him, and he was thankful – he didn’t want to speak about it right now, or, really, ever.

Raphael shook him slightly, “Simon, talk to me. Please.”

 He inhaled deeply, then met his eyes. “Every night I wake up and I have to live around all of these beautiful people, perfect hair and skin, and they know you so much better than I do, and they get to love you and have you and be protected by you, and Camille and Lily get to look the way they do, along with everyone else here. And then there’s me! I don’t even own a hairbrush, I don’t have abs, like, what even are they anyway?! I’m so unattr—”

 “You are so beautiful.” Simon spluttered, tears falling down his cheeks. “You are so beautiful, Simon. Look at yourself, truly look at yourself.” Raphael made him look at himself in the full length mirror. “Your face is so soft and round, so delicate for me to kiss.” He emphasised it by pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Your torso is so long and lean, really, this is what makes you tall…I don’t care that you don’t have abs, abs are uncomfortable to nap on…” his hands ran over the soft skin at the bottom of his torso. Simon sobbed. “Your legs are so muscular, so strong, reminds me that you are just a new vampire, and you try so hard to be perfect Simon but you don’t even realise…”

 Simon turns and faces him, rather than stare at him in the mirror. “Realise what?” He said, through thick tears.

 Raphael kisses him, pulls away, “you try so hard to be perfect Simon, but you don’t even realise that you’re already perfect,” then presses Simon onto his bed, kissing him as he laid his body atop of his.

 

 SIMON WAS SURROUNDED BY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE. He, too, was one of them – Raphael Santiago had even said so.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! :)


End file.
